


Day 4. Expensive

by Munnin



Series: Fictober [4]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Club 79's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Clones cost a lot, but they didn't spend much...





	Day 4. Expensive

**Author's Note:**

> Red Mist Squad based on characters created by [Joe Hogan](https://www.deviantart.com/joehoganart/gallery/?catpath=/) for the [ The Siren of Dathomir](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3z0kyf53Ds) and [ Panic Over Muunilinst](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3-_EnhMEDE). Stolen, run away with, and abused with his permission.
> 
> I have a lot of other [Red Mist stories](https://archiveofourown.org/series/946755) and [the Hugin Chronicles](https://archiveofourown.org/series/663440).

When the Supreme Chancellor officially sanctioned the acquisition of the clone army, the Republic took on a far greater expense than anyone expected. 

It wasn’t just the fully grown and ready troopers; it was the contract for all troopers in training, and all those still growing in their tanks.

It wasn’t just the armour the troopers wore; it was the ships they flew, and the tanks they used. It was the contracts with the shipyards to build more as needed. 

And once the Republic took possession of the clone army (after paying the substantial amount owing to the Kaminoan cloners) there were more costs to be considered. 

The cost of food and fuel and medical supplies. The cost of barracking and supplying the army. The cost of repairs and maintenance and replacement of gear. 

As systems fell to, or freely joined to the Separatists, the Republic’s resources tightened.

Then there was the question of what rights a clone had.

Every clone took an oath to protect and defend the Republic. And because of their training, their behaviour modification, their entire system of being – that oath was an inviable as blood. 

The blood they shed. Over and over and over. 

The Senate debated long and hard about it. Committees and sub-committees were established to look into and monitor and discuss the issue. 

What would happen if a clone refused to take the oath? What punishment could they be subject to if they broke it? Could a clone quit the army? And if not, under what right could the Republic punish a deserter?

Nothing ever came of these discussions. Because no-one wanted to admit the truth. 

For all of the Republic’s lip-service to anti-slavery laws, the Republic protected itself with an army of slaves. Sentient beings whose lives were bought and paid for. 

But the clones themselves were never paid. 

They were fed, housed, clothed and supplied, and had access to medical care. Socioeconomically, this mean they were better off than 70% of Coruscant’s population. Which would only have come as a surprise to the very narrow band of comfortably wealthy politicians and plutocrats. Most of whom never paid much attention to what happened below the skyline. 

However, clones who had seen heavy combat were sometimes issued with bonuses. If a clone unit got back to Coruscant for a couple of days, they would be given a short permit of leave and an allowance of a few credits. 

It wasn’t much, but the Republic leaders used it to salve their own guilt. And in theory because it was good for the Coruscant economy. 

Clones didn’t need for much. After all, their basic needs were met by the Republic and their training and indoctrination ruled out the desire for more than the basics. 

They had no interest in fashion or personal possessions beyond their gear. Personal expression came in the form of armour modification, hair styles and skin-painting. Most of which they did themselves. 

For lack of something better to do with their credits, a lot of clones ended up at bars like 79’s, spending their money on intoxicants and gambling. Something that several of Coruscant ‘lower level’ entrepreneurs had no problems taking advantage of. 

Red Mist had their own way of spending their superfluous credits. They pooled them, taking out only what they needed for the night out, and giving the rest to Linc.

Supply and support officers were meant to make sure each team had what they needed. To track usage of armour, ammo, rations and other basics, and to requisition what they needed as they needed it. To make sure their squad was never caught short.

But the more talented Supplies knew there was more to the job than that. It was about anticipating need. About having what the squad needed before they knew they needed it.

And Linc prided himself on always having what his squad needed.

Whether it was as simple as the caf concentrate Ridley preferred or as complex as the not _entirely_ legal explosives Rezz always seemed to find a use for; Linc made a point of knowing how to get it.

It meant building up a network of contacts. Not all of them entirely reputable. 

Being at 79’s was a prime opportunity to… meet with people. People Linc couldn’t meet with on Republic property. 

Toshi Nink wasn’t exactly the sort of contact you had to hide from their Republic overseers. He wasn’t disreputable or dodgy. He was just, kinda sad. 

Toshi cut a pretty dishevelled appearance. Most of the Green Nikto’s spikes were broken or jagged, his leathery skin drooped on one side of his face like a palsy. He generally only used his left hand, the right sitting on the table in a heavy padded glove that failed the hide the fact he was missing two digits. 

Part of the advantage of Toshi’s pathetic appearance was that people tended to actively ignore him, assuming he’d just wandered into the wrong bar. But he wasn’t trouble enough to bother chasing away. He’d buy a mug of caf laced with just a little Corellian whiskey. A cheap drink but enough to justify the barstool he occupied. 

There were plenty of stories about how Toshi ended up that way, some of them truly ridiculous. The most common was that he’d been part of a crew. A crew that had fallen foul of something terrible. Terrible enough that Toshi was the only survivor. 

No-one ever asked him outright how he got to be there. They just put up with him, like part of the furniture and the occasional butt of jokes.

Linc had an eye for the unusual, and noticed things others might not have. Like the way the funny cap Toshi habitually wore looked a little flatter when he left for the night. Like something inside it had been taken out. Or the way the pretty Twi'lek waitresses seemed to swing past his table to top off his caf before serving her tray of drinks. Slipping little packets back and forth as they did. 

One day, Linc decided to jump in with both boots, and offered to buy Toshi a drink. 

Other clones had hassled him for it after but Linc just grinned and shrugged them off. For all he looked like a bum who’d been chased out of every other bar on the level, Toshi was in fact a very well-connected individual and one of the best procurers Linc had gotten to know.

Toshi wasn’t much use for anything illegal, amoral, or particularly dangerous. Linc got the feeling Toshi had been through that trade and decided the benefits didn’t outweigh the risks. But Toshi was very, very good at finding the mundane but elusive. Like tonight.

Linc grabbed a couple of laced cafs from the bar and wondered over to Toshi’s little booth in the corner, sliding into the shadows quietly. “Did you get it?”

The Nikto sighed and pulled the fresh mug towards himself. “Would I have caught your eye if I didn’t?” He took a sip, nudging something under the table against Linc’s foot. “Tell your pilot no more than three drops per litre. Any more and he’ll turn the manifolds to paste.

Linc nodded, slipping a couple of credits across the table. “And the other thing I asked for?”

“Won’t arrive till tomorrow.” Toshi shrugged. “Assuming you’re not shipping out right away, I’ll have to here tomorrow night.”

Linc flashed him a grin. “Tomorrow night it is.” He picked up the package and heading back to the rest of Red Mist.

The next time they took off, the squad’s LAAT ran cleaner and more efficiently. During the mission, when the members of Red Mist reached for their hydro pouches, they found their water rations flavoured subtly. Linc had taken the time to doctor each of them to taste with the little packets of flavouring crystals Toshi had acquired for him. 

Clones didn’t want for much, which was good seeing the Republic couldn’t afford to give them much. But a good Supply’s job was to make the lives of their fellow clones just a little bit easier. And Linc did it well.

**Author's Note:**

> Josh. Always Josh! Thank you.


End file.
